whose are the privilege and the glory. Say not, I am a poor insignificant creature; what will my prayers avail? Ah! if every Christian were thus to reason, what would become of our Zion? Have you an interest at the throne of grace in your own behalf? do you hope so? and, believing so, do you act accordingly? then have you also an interest there in behalf of a perishing world. That interest you must use. By all the prospective glories of the Messiah, I beseech you to use it. By all the deep and inconceivable miseries of the heathen; by the probability of their condemnation; and by the possibility of their deliverance, I conjure you to use it. Whatever you forget, forget not the millions who are perishing for lack of vision. Forget not the self-denied missionary who has gone to relieve them; forget not the societies which are pledged to this l.oly enterprise. The day is coming, when this subject will hold a prominence in our supplications; when the prayer, "Thy kingdom come," will come gushing from the heart, and be reiterated with an earnestness which shall indicate its near approach, and be prophetic of its universality.

You see from my protracted remarks on this subject, that I consider prayer the life and soul

of the Christian. To the young Christian, I cannot too urgently press its importance." Prayer is the key of heaven. O, what has it not done? By it, Elijah shut up the skies, and no dew nor rain descended on the guilty land. By it, Jacob placed a ladder between heaven and earth, and formed a communication for angels. By it, Daniel shut up the mouths of ferocious lions; Sampson shook the pillars of Philistia's temple; and Peter was delivered from prison. Prayer is a mighty weapon in the hands of the weakest. Use it then; never, O, never, yield up this weapon.

In my next, I shall offer a few remarks on the third question, when should we pray?

LETTER IX.

I SHALL make but a few additional observations, my young friend, on the subject of prayer, although, I confess, my pen would pursue the delightful theme, through many pages more.

The apostle commands us to "pray without ceasing." Are we by this to understand, that every moment of our time is to be spent in prayer? This, undoubtedly, is not his meaning. The import of the exhortation is, omit not this important duty; be regular and punctual in your daily visits to the altar; and see to it that you continually preserve a prayerful frame of spirit. No person can plead for a more strict interpretation of the passage, than this. It implies all that the apostle meant to inculcate and, be assured, that if you persevere in such a course, you will not subject yourself to the charge of "casting off fear, and restraining prayer before God."

The seasons of prayer are stated and occasional, ordinary and extraordinary. No Christian can maintain a close walk with God; none can keep alive the hallowed fire of the soul, without daily kindling it afresh at the altar.

None can grow in knowledge and holiness, without stated and regular seasons of prayer. "Give us this day our daily bread," implies as much the aliment of the soul, as the nourishment of the body. The one can no more live in health and vigour, without prayer, than the other without food.

It is usual to recommend the morning and the evening, as the most suitable seasons for prayer. In this, I fully concur. There appears to be something peculiarly appropriate, in this arrangement of duty.

When the darkness has passed, and the light has again dawned upon the earth; when we rise from our couch, and find our faculties invigorated by the restoring slumbers of the night; when we view the beauties of the morning landscape, listen to the melody of birds, and feel the balmy breath of nature, playing coolly and sweetly around us; when praise and thanksgiving to God, seem inscribed upon every feature of a revived world: how can we be silent! how withhold the burst of rapturous adoration! These scenes, I am aware, awaken no such feelings in the hearts of multitudes. They gaze on them, it is true; but they recognize not the hand that formed them. They

feel no thrill of gratitude, nor offer one note of praise. Not so with the Christian. To him they convey a lesson, through the eye, to the soul; and lead him "from nature up to nature's God."

How proper, then, my young friend, is the morning, for secret converse with your God! It is your privilege to reside in the country. You live amid nature's magnificence. The un obstructed arch of heaven is your canopy. For your eye, the forest waves, the meadows smile, the garden unfolds its beauties, and spring and summer vie in their efforts to regale your senses. You are not crowded into a noisy and profligate city, and shut out from almost every thing that is pleasant to the eye, and calming to the soul. No, you dwell, as it were, with God, and among his glorious works. Let your first hours, therefore, be his. Let not sloth nail you to your couch, when all nature invites you to awake and join the general concert of praise. "Awake, psaltery and harp," must be your language; "I, myself, will awake early." Mary found her way to the sepulchre, ere the day dawned; nor wept at that sepulchre in vain. Early devotions are all-important. They are so, because they afford time to attend, without